Bliss
by VervainAndRoses
Summary: "Everything we found there, alone, away from court…" A collection of moments set during Mary&Francis' honeymoon.
1. Chapter 1

A blur of trees pass by the carriage window, a mixture of bare trunks and stubborn greens covered in white. Mary and Francis have been traveling for some hours now, and after bobbing her knew up and down and talking about anything she could think of, kissing some and playing guessing games, Mary's now fast asleep on Francis' shoulder. He wonders, amused, how she even made the journey from the convent back to court months ago, or even more, from Scotland to France as a child; she is so terribly impatient.

It won't be long until they arrive to their first destination now, the scenery outside of the window changing as they get closer. The chateau they will be staying at in Paris overlooked a lake, and although it wasn't small by any means, it wasn't a grand castle. That wasn't what he wanted. He wished to use somewhere intimate, cozy; where they could enjoy themselves with the least possible amount of servants and guards and hosts, and the place he chose as their first stop was perfect. It's a surprise for Mary though, and they'll be arriving any minute now.

The carriage starts to turn on the road toward the gates, and Mary is still resting on his shoulder, her eyes closed and her breath puffing out warmly against him. She looks so peaceful, sleep washing away her worry lines and making her look like just a girl, not a queen with the weight of a country over her shoulders. She's looked this peaceful since their wedding ceremonies, both of them, and he hates to wake her from her slumber. But the carriage is coming to a stop in front of the chateau, and he can already see the servants through the window, carrying their things inside.

"Mary." He caresses her cheek softly, his fingers rubbing the smooth, rosy skin. "Wake up." She scrunches her nose in a way he finds absolutely adorable, but she doesn't open her eyes. And so he decides to take a different, more enjoyable approach.

"Mary." He whispers as his hand holds her head and he leans down to kiss her neck. Her eyes start to flutter open at this, and he continues. "I am pleased to inform you," he kisses her cheek, "that we have arrived." He sucks lightly on the spot behind her ear; the one he knows drives her crazy. She gasps, fully awake now, and he feels a ridiculous smugness at eliciting this reaction from her. Her hand sinks in his hair, and he can't help himself, his warm tongue touching her neck as he kisses her skin with an open mouth. Her eyes fall closed once again, but in a much different way that they were only minutes ago.

"You said we arrived." She gasps out, and he nods against her chest, his mouth traveling the length of her collarbone before she pulls him to her mouth and he complies, kissing her softly, unhurriedly. That they've arrived at their destination doesn't seem like that much of a concern to either of them at the current moment. She sighs against his lips, promptly forgetting the fact, and his thumb runs over her lower lip, coaxing her mouth open so his tongue can slip inside. His hand skims over her breast on its way to her waist and a gasp leaves her lips. The door of the carriage suddenly opens and they jump apart; her cheeks flaming.

The page pointedly looks at the floor as he announces everyone is ready to receive them, and Francis can't help but smile at Mary, despite the almost admonishing frown he receives from her afterwards. He comes out of the carriage, offering his hand to help her down himself. He grins widely at her blushed cheeks and she tries to give him a reproachful look and almost succeeds, but truth be told, he isn't the least embarrassed at being caught in a compromising position. They are husband and wife, just wed. No one can blame them for not being able to keep their hands to themselves. And they truly can't, even when the physical part of their relationship isn't that new in their case. He doesn't let go of her hand even after she comes down of the carriage. In fact, he doesn't plan on letting go of her anytime soon.


	2. Chapter 2

The castle is a wonderful place. After spending two weeks in Paris they traveled again, father into the countryside, and now she finds herself in front of a gorgeous stone fort that almost reminds her of her home in Scotland. The grounds are lovely even in winter, seeming out of a fairy tale. They have only just arrived, and the servants unloading their things give them a little time to explore. She holds Francis' hand the entire time they walk around the gardens, and there's an almost permanent smile on his face. It's a look she rather loves on him.

"So what do you think, wife?" He asks her with a grin. "Do you like it?"

"Yes. It's gorgeous here." But not as amazing as it is to hear him calling her wife, she thinks. He's used the title as much as possible since it became official, and she finds the word husband to be new and sweet in her tongue as well. They might just forget their given names for a few more days yet. "I love it." She tells him, a smile playing at her lips as she reaches up to run her hand through his curls, not able to keep herself apart from him for more than a second.

He kisses her fast then, whispering, "Let's go inside." Against her lips, and she nods, the snow covered garden no longer holding her attention at all. He pulls her into his side, his embrace warming her from the chill as they rush back to the castle, walking inside through a side door they find open.

They minute they step inside the door he pulls her into his embrace, his lips seeking hers almost like second nature. They do not even realize that they have stepped into the kitchens, or have any care for the servants that observe them with smiles, noting that they have been there for barely an hour. They are far too drunk on their happiness to notice a world exists outside the circle of each other's arms.

Her hands travel down his shoulders, and then wrap around his body. She grabs his backside to pull him even closer, and the sound of a giggle makes her step away. She realizes where they have wandered into when they suddenly pull apart, and Mary is so embarrassed at getting lost in the moment and not noticing their audience, she swears her face will never be a color other than red.

"Umm, excuse us." She says quickly, to the amused faces of half a dozen servants, and then walks back out as fast as her legs will carry her and her long skirts will allow. Francis follows her suit and it's clear he's not nearly as ashamed as she is, since there's a smile on his face. The flames blazing in her cheeks don't abate at the thought of what everyone inside witnessed. They walk out into the gardens once again, just in time for Francis' smile to break out into a full on laugh, and she turns around, frowning at him.

"Francis! Stop it," she tells him "it's not funny." She reprimands him, having to cover her mouth to hide her smile, though, the hilarity of the situation catching up to her, even if she will never admit that, embarrassment still at the forefront of her mind. Besides she won't give him the pleasure this time. He finds it an infinite source of amusement how she often forgets there are other people in the same castle as them. Or in the same country.

"I'm not laughing." He says, but that is a huge lie, for a goofy grin lights up his face. She knows it has everything to do with the way she can't seem to keep herself together when he touches her. She tries to resist the smile fighting its way onto her face, and says as seriously as she can manage. "I'm going to go have a bath now, wash off the journey here."

"All right." He says, leaning down to brush his lips with hers just faintly, and she can't even think about refusing on account of his laughing, her mouth responding of it's own accord. "You seem awfully distracted though; try not to drown in the bathtub."

"Francis!" She calls him out on his teasing, for what a husband she's been gifted with. But at the lovely glint of happiness in his eyes she is thankful for it all, even him making fun of her.

"I'm joking!" He tells her, his hands going to cup her cheeks. "Go enjoy your bath, I'll make sure our things are settled and that dinner it's on its way. And you won't have to face the servants for tonight at least." He tries to control the amused smile pulling at the sides of his mouth, and she can't help but giggle.

"That was mortifying and you make fun of me." She says, her hands holding on to the lapels of his coat. "You're terrible."

"You love me." He tells her, his hands settling on her waist.

"I do." She nods and doesn't try to hide the smile that takes over right then, as he pulls her in for a lingering kiss. His lips are warm despite the cold, and so sweet against hers. She pulls away after just a moment though, not planning to give the servants another spectacle any time soon.


	3. Chapter 3

Her hand is testing the water's warmth when Francis comes in. Even after a couple weeks of marriage she is still almost surprised to see him walk into her rooms, unannounced; his demeanor completely carefree as he walks toward her.

"You may leave now." He says in the direction of the chamber maid, and the girl nods and curtsies before retiring, but Mary's eyes are stuck to Francis, the way he spoke making her senses awaken. He comes to her, pulling her close by her waist. She's wearing only a thin robe and he is still in his traveling attire, and something in that makes her feel almost vulnerable. It makes her blood churn. He mutters a suggestion against her ear that makes her eyes pop open a second before she nods, excitement making her breath race.

"Can I join you?" He'd asked.

She watches him take of his clothes slowly, methodically and when he is finally completely bare before her, he pulls her in, kissing her passionately, his mouth dominating hers. She barely feels him untying her robe and pushing it off her body. The silk grazes her shoulders as it goes down and this feels different somehow, than any of the countless times he's seen her. The room is completely alight with the late afternoon sun and his eyes travel her body like a gentle caress; he admires her like she's a work of art.

"You're so beautiful." He tells her, and something in the way he says it makes her chest feel as if it is going to burst open. He leads her to the bathtub, stepping inside the warm water. He holds his hand out to her and she steps inside, not quite sure on how to arrange herself.

"Turn around…come here." She follows his lead, sitting in front of him, and his arms come around her waist, pulling her close. She relaxes against his chest, the warm water and his hands doing wonders for her tired, travel-weary body. His fingers start to run over her arms, and the lull of the movement and the water make her go slack, pliant … her eyes fall close of their own accord as she leans her head back to rest it on his shoulder.

"I was here once before, some years ago. I'll show you the chateau before dinner, what do you say?"

He asks her, his fingers tracing up and down her shoulder.

"All right." She says softly, sighing with the feeling the movement evokes in her.

"And after dinner, we could finish our walk through the garden. I think it might not be that cold yet. We could watch the sun set…what do you think?" His hand is tracing patterns in her stomach now, each time lower than the last and her heartbeat speeds sup.

"Huh?" She asks him.

"I said, what do you think about watching the sun set tonight?"

"Umm…" She struggles to find words to answer him, when his hands seem to be wondering aimlessly over her body.

"What has you so distracted?" He teasingly asks, as his hand runs over her smooth thigh, up her side and brushes his fingers over her breast.

"Francis." She gasps softly, her eyes opening and her head rising up from his shoulder. He kisses her neck.

"Relax. It was a long journey." He coaxes her to lie against him once more, and his lips return to her neck, biting and sucking at the tender flesh. She can't help the small moan that escapes her lips. He quiets her, his hand running lower and lower.

"Relax." He reiterates softly, his hand dipping between her legs that fall open of their own accord. A moan escapes her lips the fist time he touches her, the water around her creating a completely new feeling.

"What if…ah…someone comes in?" She breathily asks him, her breath speeding up. She remembers their earlier mistake despite herself.

"They won't." He says and she wants to ask him how he's so sure but then his mouth nips at her shoulder and his fingers do wonders to her underneath the water. Relaxing is absolutely ludicrous, as even keeping herself quiet proves to be a struggle, but she manages, although her question is well forgotten by the time they get out.


	4. Chapter 4

Francis and Mary lay on their sides, a tray of fruits and pastries forgotten on the table near the bed, a cup full of cherries between then on the bed. They've been attempting to have breakfast for nearly half an hour now, but the task is easier said than done, as they constantly get distracted by each other's lips and body. The silk sheet rest on their waist, and Mary doesn't even attempt to cover herself anymore, any reservations she might have had about being naked long since forgotten. He takes a cherry, running it over her breast and down her arm, his mouth following suit to lick the sweetness of her skin.

"Francis!" She giggles, his beard tickling her, his lips making her stomach flutter in a completely different way. "What are you doing?"

"Enjoying my breakfast." He answers her, his lips pressing a quick kiss that tastes of cherries upon her mouth. He lays back down on his side, popping the fruit in his mouth, his eyes gazing adoringly at her. He smiles at her and her lips return the gesture almost on their own. She's been smiling so much lately her cheeks almost begin to hurt.

"Here, try one." He grabs a ripe one and feeds it to her, and she bites down on the red fruit, a bit of juice running down her lower lip. He wipes it off, sucking his thumb afterwards. "They're good, aren't they? And at this time of year."

She nods, the sweet flavor in her mouth almost as good as seeing him so relaxed and at ease. They're so thoroughly comfortable with one another. It's one of the best things this time alone has offered them, their responsibilities put on hold for a few months, their time to use as they please. It's pure bliss to wake up next to him every morning, and for him to be the last person she speaks with before she falls asleep, always in his arms. She could truly live in this bubble for the rest of her life.

"I don't want to leave here." She tells him, and his brow furrows slightly.

"Here? I thought we were leaving for Anet tomorrow morning. But if you want to stay a while longer, I believe we could manage that..." He explains, and she smiles at his trying to change their plans to please her, but that is not what she meant.

"I mean here in this moment." She tells him, extending her arm across the bed to entwine her fingers with his. "I don't ever want to go back."

He pulls her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it, and then to her wrist. Her fingernails scratch his beard softly when he lets go of her, smiling. She's almost mesmerized by the way he looks so early in the morning; his blue eyes clear like the sky outside.

"Shall I tell you a secret?" He asks, his mouth pulls up in that teasing smile she so loves to see on him. He grabs the cup of berries between them and reaches over her to drop it on the bedside table.

"I don't want to go back either," he confesses, whispering in her ear and then climbs on top of her, adjusting the sheet so it still covers them at least a little. The season is winter even if they tend to forget, their bed is always so warm. "and we don't have to," he leans down to press a kiss on her neck, her pulse speeding up underneath his tongue. "just yet." A wide smile is the answer to his words, and she pulls his mouth down to hers then, pure happiness singing in her chest.


	5. Chapter 5

Francis sets down the last tray of food on the low table by the fire, hoping it'll keep warm. He asked the servants to bring their dinner to their chambers tonight, and now he stands up to asses his handiwork. He moved a low table in front of the fireplace, some cushions scattered around it, and now the mouth-watering smell of the food fills the air. It's not much, but he wanted to do something special for Mary, something different, and with her going to shop for the day it was the perfect occasion to do so. She was supposed to be back earlier, but with the weather he advised the carriage driver to take the journey back as slow as he needed to make it safe; besides, it was the first time she could truly buy things to her content. And with the help of the duchess, the wife of their host, who according to her husband loves using his money more than she ever loved him, he isn't worried about the slight delay.

Mary and him had both agreed to spend the day apart the night before; he, gambling with the duke and his friends, and she shopping (he'd told her in jest that he didn't quite care for her trying on dresses, he'd much rather take them off, which earned him a slap on the chest.) But even so it was almost laughable how much they delayed getting out of bed that morning. In fact, a servant came to inform them that the carriage was waiting for Mary and she hadn't even called for a maid to help her get dressed. At the end, he did it himself, tying up her corset strings and her skirt, clasping her necklace for her, and the intimacy they shared in something as simple as getting ready was something he loved. Finally, he let her go, her excitement almost palpable, and told her to try not to miss him too much.

He's a bit hungry now, but he decided he'd much rather eat with his wife, as simple as that was, and so with the food ready and the room set up, he has nothing to do but wait for her. He sits down on an arm chair to do just that.

.:.

"Francis?" She calls out, untying her cape. "You should see how many people there were! I found gifts for Greer, Kenna and Lola, and some wonderful marzipan from this bakery. Oh, and I bought a box of sweets I think your brothers will appreciate …Francis?"

She finds him asleep on a chair, the fire dying out next to him. And several covered trays of what she can assume its dinner set on a table in front of the dim flames. The sight warms her heart, and she walks closer, taking her cloak of her shoulders along the way. She sits down on his lap gently, and he starts to wake.

"Hey." She scratches his beard softly, like he's a cat rousing from sleep.

"Hello." He tells her, his voice sleepy. "How was your day?"

"Wonderful." She beams at him, wanting to tell him already about all the things she bought and saw, but her eyes drift to the untouched trays near the fireplace. "I told you not to wait for me to have your dinner. It's quite late."

"I don't mind." He shakes his head. "I'll rekindle the fire and ask for some wine while you get changed."

She nods, pretty famished from the day, and attempts to stand up from his lap but he pulls her back down before she can manage to move away.

"First things first though." He says, before leaning forwards and capturing her lips with his own. It's a tender kiss, his lips pulling at hers until she leans over him, pushing him back into the chair, no hurry at all. It says I missed you, no matter how minuscule the separation was. His tongue traces her lower lip softly, and she almost wines as he pulls away from her before it can become more, an almost drunk smile on his face. "_Now_, how about dinner?"


	6. Chapter 6

"I'll be just a moment longer." She tells him as he walks in, ready for bed. She's still sitting in front of the mirror, the maid behind her undoing the intricate braid her hair was tied into for today's dinner with their hosts. She can see Francis look at her through the glass, his attitude telling her that she's not the only impatient one.

"You may leave us." Francis tells the maid suddenly, and the girl steps back and curtsies, then leaves right away. Mary is left with her mouth almost hanging open.

"Francis! She has yet to undo my hair." She complains right away, but he just shakes his head. "I'd do it myself but I can't even see it, I'll tangle it all. What did you do that for?"

"I guess I just could not wait a minute longer to be alone with my wife." He tells her, coming behind her, his fingers dancing on her shoulders and his eyes dancing with mischief. It would be a lot easier to be cross with him if she didn't love him that much, or if he wasn't such a charmer and a sweet talker when he meant to.

"Well, now you'll have to wait until I figure out what to do with my hair." She tells him, not wanting to let him get away with it. She knows she's punishing them both but so be it. She likes a bit of playful pettiness every once in a while, he had it coming.

"I believe _I'm_ capable of helping with something as simple as a braid, my love." He tells her, and she finds his idea is much better than hers.

"Very well then." She tries to hide her smile, taking a brush and pressing it to his hand before climbing on the bed. He follows suit, confident in his abilities. Yet when he sits behind her, the man finds himself in front of a truly puzzling picture. Mary's long black hair is rather complicatedly braided into a heart, and he's not quite sure where it all begins or ends.

"Shall I call for the maid to come back?" She asks him, smug, once he says nothing and makes no move to begin. Although he sits there with the brush held loosely in his hand and a very confused expression on his face, he shakes his head before realizing she can't see him.

"No, it's quite all right." It is not. He's a man truly lost, but although he's quite happy to pleasure her at all times, he doesn't want to give her _this_ particular satisfaction. Carefully he begins to undo the braids that are loose among her hair, for something to do before facing her hairstyle. He will not be defeated.

Once he's done with the less threatening part he softly begins to search for ways to unwind her hair, almost too careful as he doesn't want to pull on it and hurt her. Slowly, he finds where the ends have been hidden and after a few minutes her hair is back into its usual curls and smaller loose braid he can deal with quite easily. He smiles, satisfied with himself. He undoes all of the smallest braids, except one close to the front that he knows she always likes to wear because it reminds her of Scotland and Aylee.

He then takes the brush and runs its bristles through her long hair, and he finds that its no longer the playful desire to prove her wrong that drives him, but that he likes it as well, as he knows she certainly does if her quiet sighs are anything to go by.

There's a certain peace to this, a certain intimacy as he does something so small and perhaps insignificant for his wife as brushing her hair. He loves the feel of it, as he can never tire of running his fingers through her hair as she lies on his chest. And although this is different it feels good all the same. The scent of lavender that floats from her curls fills the air, tickling his nose with the sweet scent. He thinks he might just do this for her every night, rather than wait for her to finish. After a lot longer than what was needed, her hair almost straight, he lays the brush down.

"I believe I'm done." He whispers in her ear, then kisses her cheek sweetly, and she's waken from a little stupor.

"Uh?" She sounds a bit confused, and he smiles with the knowledge he almost lulled her right into sleep.

"I hope your hair is to your liking, your majesty." He says, as dutiful as a maid.

She runs her fingers through her hair as if assessing his work, not finding one tangle. She's pleased but not surprised; she knew he'd do a good work of it with his deft fingers. Not that she'd ever tell him that.

"It's…not too bad, I suppose." She says, holding her chin a little higher in jest.

"You suppose?!" He exclaims, laughing, his arms going around her waist and holding her to him tight. "I think... you undermine my handiwork." He tells her slowly, then leans back and takes all of her hair over one shoulder pressing a kiss to the tender skin at the nape of her neck.

"I guess it's all right." She concedes, sighing.

"_Just_ all right?" He asks her, his finger deftly unbuttoning the top part of her nightgown and his lips dropping kisses on her increasingly bare shoulders. She chuckles.

"Keep that up and I'll never use a maid again!"


End file.
